Dragons
by maidmasher
Summary: Eustace Clarence Scrubb, beetle-pinner and connoisseur of dreary textbooks, had tears running down his cheeks. Lucy was patting his elbow. "Help," she mouthed at Edmund.


**Dragons  
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_One._

_Two._

_Three._

_Four._

They stared at the painting they had fallen through. Edmund was going to count to sixty before interrupting the silence, but there came the sound of sniffling from next to him and he said, "Come on Lu, you heard what he said. He's here, in our world. It's sad, I know but it's not –"

"Hush, Ed. _I'm _not crying," said Lucy.

"What?"

He turned.

"Oh."

Eustace Clarence Scrubb, beetle-pinner and connoisseur of dreary textbooks, had tears running down his cheeks. Lucy was patting his elbow. "Help," she mouthed at Edmund.

He shook his head at her with an expression that he hoped said, "What do you expect _me_ to do about it?"

She rolled her eyes. "Eustace, excuse us for a moment, won't you?" Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed Edmund's hand and pulled him out of the room.

* * *

><p>"You need to talk to him," she said as soon as he had shut the door behind them.<p>

"Why can't you do it?"

"I think ... I think he'll appreciate it more if it comes from you."

"But you're the girl! Aren't you meant to be good at this sort of thing?"

She scowled. "You're the girl. _You're the girl,_ he says. It certainly wasn't you who stabbed that dwarf who tried to assassinate us. As far as I recall, you were convinced you were having a nightmare and spent three hours wandering around the Cair muttering 'wake up, wake up' and pinching yourself!"

"Alright, alright. Sorry. You might only be a girl, but you did shove that dagger through his stomach with enthusiasm to rival the greatest male warrior."

"Oh, Edmund. Haven't you realised?"

"Realised what, exactly?"

"There is no _only _about being a girl."

He didn't know how to respond to that. He didn't even know if there was an appropriate response. Lucy, taking his silence as her victory, nudged him towards the door.

"Lu, what am I meant to say to him?"

"I don't know. D'you think he'll even want to talk? If he doesn't, I'd just make some sympathetic noises at him."

"And if he does?"

"How do you think he feels?"

"Different." As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt stupid.

"Well, yes. Different. Probably. He did turn into a dragon."

"I'd forgotten. And ... "

"Yes?"

He sighed. He didn't know how to explain it to her, his valiant sister who, he had already seen, would always be golden and merry. In fact, Edmund wasn't really sure that 'growing up' was what Lucy would do – instead, she would fly through life, protected by the impenetrable pentacle of that strange, glowing innocence she seemed to exude, partially sympathetic and mostly oblivious to other people's pain and loss.

Lucky her.

Edmund thought he knew what Eustace might be feeling. Guilt, perhaps. Fear. Shock. Happiness? Maybe. He wasn't sure.

Lucy was grinning at him. She had known she couldn't understand Eustace as he did. Not so oblivious, then.

"Good luck!" she said.

* * *

><p>Eustace was still looking at the painting when Edmund rejoined him, and he was relieved to see that the crying had stopped.<p>

"Eustace – "

"No, it's alright. You don't have to talk to me."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Of course you couldn't avoid me in Narnia. But now we're back, you can stop pretending you like me."

"But – "

"Edmund, I've been absolutely rotten to you. Honestly, I wouldn't blame you if you never want to speak to me again. I feel like this ship. A painted ship upon a painted ocean. Have you read that poem?"

Edmund had. "Worse than the ship," he said. "Because it's not really stuck like us, is it?"

"I suppose not. Worse than a painted ship. How awful."

"I'm sorry," said Edmund. "I'm supposed to be making you feel better. Lucy will kill me."

Eustace laughed.

"Listen," Edmund tried again, awkwardly. "I told you what I was like when I first went to Narnia. Sometimes, I still feel like I won't ever be able to make up for what I did. You weren't nearly as awful as I was. You might have been beastly, but at least you weren't a traitor."

"You never actually told me what you did."

"I thought you didn't want to know."

"I didn't. I think I might now, though."

So Edmund told him all about Professor Kirke's house in the countryside, and the Turkish delight, and the Christmas presents he had never received.

When he had finished, Eustace whistled. "That _is _pretty bad."

"Thanks," said Edmund. "Here I am, telling you tales of my sordid past, trying to make you feel better, and you don't even try and reciprocate!"

"I didn't mean it like that – "

"I know, idiot."

"Anyway, you've made it up to the others. You broke the witch's wand, you ruled properly over Narnia, you believed Lucy when she saw Aslan that other time. I haven't done any of that. I was a pain on that journey, and even after I'd realised it, I wasn't a particularly valuable member of the crew or anything like that."

"Shut up. You did plenty more than that. You slew a dragon, you came with us to Aslan's Country and you did help with the Dawn Treader. You weren't quite as helpful as us, I'll admit, but ... "

Eustace smirked. "Shut up yourself," he said and shoved Edmund. Edmund pushed him back, and somehow they ended up in a vague and awkward embrace.

"Right," said Edmund, clearing his throat. "All better, then? We had better go and see where Lucy's got to."

Eustace nodded. They stood for a moment more, looking at the painting: no longer living and Narnian, but a painted ship upon a painted ocean.

"At least you've got a souvenir. We just fell back through the wardrobe with nothing," said Edmund.

"Ed," Eustace said before they turned to leave. "You know I _didn't_ slay any dragons, don't you? That other dragon, it died while I was there. That was jolly lucky. I'm sure it would have eaten me, otherwise."

"The other dragon?" said Edmund. "Ah. No. I was talking about yourself."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Hope you enjoyed. Please review!


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